And They Said LIFE Sucked!
by James Jago
Summary: Cedric Diggory has had crap days in his time, but he's never woken up DEAD before. Can Moaning Myrtle help him look on the bright side of afterlife?


Usual disclaimers; why can't they just put one on the title page of the site and leave it at that?

This story runs parallel to the alternate timeline established by the determined efforts of Professors Snape and Flitwick and a young Auror by the name of Richard Malone, who between them stage an elaborate ambush in the past that entails filling Godric's Hollow with armed gunmen and blowing up a warehouse full of curry powder; I can't be bothered to explain all the details, so just go and read the stories if you're curious. The effect of these events on this story is minimal, but Dumbledore isn't dead and one or two new characters pop up.

Thanks to Kittenmommy for giving the last installment of 'Swimming Upstream' the once-over and thinking up Prof. McGonagall's nickname, and JTBJAB (aka my mate Jenni from university) for wading through my back-catalogue to give constructive criticism, and not having a fit when I admitted to making Hermione gay. Thanks also to Karanina from the Firefly section for the source of Cho's utterances in her native language, and to everybody who's ever had a kind word for my writing. I wouldn't be where I am today without you, folks!

Version 1.1 thanks: JTBJAB again for corrections. You and Jinxeh achieved the all-time record for fastest response to anything I've ever posted, by the way, but you get a bonus point because it was somewhere near three in the morning when the review alert came in!

Cedric Diggory was pretty pissed off. That wasn't altogether unreasonable; after all, he'd just been murdered. He'd had some pretty crap days, but he'd never woken up _dead_ before. It had been a bit of a shock, and the discovery that he was apparently still stranded in the mortal realm hadn't pleased him one bit.

He was standing -no, hovering- in the Headmaster's office, whilst Dumbledore explained that _yes_, he was a ghost.

"Wonderful. Is there anything I can do about it? Like a self-exorcism?"

"No."

"Bugger." He hadn't _wanted_ this! He hadn't especially wanted to die with only sixteen years, three not very successful shags and no Weird Sisters gig under his belt, but having to skulk about afterwards just made matters worse. "You aren't going to tell anybody, are you, sir?"

"I shall have to let the staff know, but otherwise I shall tell only-"

"Nobody. Please. Not my family, not my classmates and _especially_ not Cho. That wouldn't improve anybody's quality of... well, let's call it _existence_ rather than _life_, shall we?"

Dumbledore nodded. "As you prefer. Should you reconsider in time, please regard my door as being ever open."

Cedric gave a hollow laugh, and stalked off through the offending portal without bothering to open it.

He eventually wound up in the Astronomy Tower, and cheered himself up by recalling the pleasant evening he'd spent in here with that pretty young French girl from the Triwizard- what was her name again? Oh, _God._ Ghosts shouldn't be able to think of stuff like that, should they? He rubbed a hand across his eyes; it felt normal, even warm. Psychosomatic or whatever, he supposed. Didn't James Herbert write about something a bit similar once? The one where a guy who could have out-of-body experiences and was having one when he was murdered in his bed one night? One thing he got wrong, though; Cedric was pleased to note that his watch was still working.

Peeves appeared, and dumped a bucket of water over his head. Or through it. Cedric looked up at the astonished poultergheist, and suddenly the rage and frustration and grief decided to let itself out in one single act of senseless violence. Cedric launched himelf upwards, grabbed Peeves by the lapels and nutted him. The feel of bone and gristle collapsing felt authentic enough, and the agonised yell suggested that Peeves agreed. He ran off swearing to himself and clutching his face. Cedric smiled for the first time that day. "Always wanted to do that."

Suddenly, being dead didn't seem like such an immense burden. It had along way to go before he would start to actually _enjoy_ it, but it would clearly have its compensations.

He spent the next few days wandering the castle, avoiding being seen and trying to get to grips with his new status. After a half-hour monologue from Sir Nicholas about how it wasn't _his_ fault that stupid bastard couldn't be arsed to sharpen the axe properly and the Headless Hunt committee were being totally unreasonable blah blah blah he began avoiding the other ghosts as well. _Why oh why do I have to haunt _this_ bloody place? Why not the place I clocked out? At least it would have been quiet. I could have taken up lamaic meditation or something. But no, I have to be here. Christ, how much bad karma can one illicit bonk get a man?_

Cedric eventually found his way to the toilet habitually haunted by Moaning Myrtle. By this point he was desperate for somebody to talk to, and she was about as close to his own age group as he was going to get without breaking his self-imposed exile. Well, Peeves had been somewhere in his mid-twenties when he'd expired (a particularly brutal murder, for some reason) but even if they weren't now sworn enemies, Peeves had all the maturity and conversational skill of a Weasley twin after their oldest brother sent them a heavily disguised bottle of Famous Grouse; wizarding booze has an easily detectable magical signature, but the sort you can buy in Tesco's does not, so the first anybody knew of it was when Fred and George started singing 'The Chicken Song'. Cedric was certain that the whole experience had scarred him for life.

Myrtle was perched on a toilet seat, idly flicking through a copy of the Quibbler; Luna created a 'ghost' copy for her friend by setting fire to hers as soon as she'd finished reading it.

"Hi. You're the new guy, right?"

"Yep. I've met just about everybody else now, so I thought I might stop by. I've been dodging students all day," he added.

"By all means take refuge; this place is used to it. If Tom Riddle can hide a basillisk in here then one more lost soul won't make a difference. Hey, listen to this!" They shared the magazine, giggling over the more spectacularly weird articles and working up a good head of righteous indignation at Rita Skeeter's column. "I can get Luna to make you a second copy," Myrtle offered.

"That would entail telling somebody about me, which I've made it a policy not to do. Not that anybody would take her at her word... oh, don't look like that. I like Luna; she's nuttier than squirrel shit, but in a likeable way."

"Autistic spectrum disorders have a long and honourable history. Look at all the people who've been accused of one: Sir Isaac Newton, Patrick Moore, Ted Heath, Bob Geldof..."

"Geldof? Nah, he's just a stubborn Paddy nutter!"

"Maybe, but he can't half put a concert together."

Cedric raised an eyebrow. "Bit before your time, isn't it?" It was a bit before _his_, come to that.

"I died when your mum was five, you dope. I saw Live Aid with the others on TV in Hogsmeade; it was fantastic!"

Cedric didn't leave the room for two days. They talked for hours, on every imaginable subject. Myrtle might have had trouble with bullies in the past, but her spiky wit and wicked sense of humour remained intact. He suspected that she was actually a good bit brighter than he was.

Finally, Myrtle asked him the question he'd been dreading. "How did you die?"

"Voldemort killed me." At length, Cedric explained all that had taken place. "I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hell, it might have done Harry a favour! He's been making eyes at my girlfriend all sodding year. If he'd known that I probably wouldn't have died."

"Think you've got problems?" she laughed. "I got myself done in by his pet basillisk! Odds are he did it on purpose; Tom Riddle always did have a vindictive streak. I turned him down for the Yule Ball, you see."

"Who did you go with instead?" Cedric asked carefully.

"Rubeus Hagrid. I fancied the pants off him back then!" She saw his expression. "Don't laugh; Giants are big _everywhere_!"

Cedric privately thanked God that ghosts were unable to blush.

When he finally wandered off for a bit, Myrtle leaned thoughtfully against the wall. "Bit of alright, isn't he?" Luna remarked from behind her.

"How long have you been listening?"

"Half an hour, all of it waiting desperately for him to bugger off so I can use the loo; I'm bloody well bursting!"

Myrtle fixed her friend with a stony glare. "If you tell a _soul..._"

"Tilly, how long have we known one another? I haven't got enough mates to do stuff like that to them!" she giggled. "It'd make a cracker of a headline though!"

"Don't even _think_ about it!" But Myrtle was giggling as well.

"Don't worry; aspiring newshound I might be, but journalistic integrity isn't dead yet. Give him one from me, mate!"

"We're not at that stage just yet," Myrtle sniffed. "But you're right about one thing; he really _is_ a bit of alright!"

The end of term was something of a relief for Cedric; he didn't have to hide any longer. He and Myrtle wandered the castle together, enjoying the company of a kindred spirit. _Spirit..._ Cedric mused. _Must be a joke in there somewhere._

It had been rather tentative at first. Every so often she would take his hand when they were strolling the castle, and once or twice she gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. Cedric thought he recognised the feelings she caused when he saw her, looked into her eyes. He _definitely_ knew the electric jolt she gave him when they touched. _Christ's Pieces, I'm falling in love with a ghost!_ he railed at himself. _So what?_ an inner voice pointed out, sounding rather like Cho. _You _are_ a ghost. What the hell difference does it make? And before you even _think_ the words 'indecent haste', remember that you screwed Fleur Delacour the night before you died!_

Cedric sighed. _Let's face it, Cedders, it's not like there's any other..._ He stopped himself abruptly. _No. It's not like that. Myrtle Bamfylde means more to me than a quick shag. So, despite appearances, did Cho Chang. I'm a better man than that!_

_Well, maybe I can be if I try hard enough. Hell's bells, does it really take dying to inspire me to self-improvement?_

He found himself leaning against a suit of armour near the Headmaster's office, when the sound of a furious monologue reached his ears. "Bastard Fudge and that prissy stuck-up bitch Umbridge!" a woman cursed, with an eye-wateringly powerful Scouse accent. "They should mind their own blurry business!"

"Save it for when Dolores is in the room, Kitty," an urbane male baritone suggested. "And she's Mrs Filch now anyway."

"Aye, they're a fine match!" the Scouse woman remarked caustically. "When I get my hands on... No, no. Rick and Frannie are gonna have enough problems without me givin' the Headmaster's boss a right slappin'!" Cedric risked taking a peek. A couple in what seemed to be perfectly ordinary Muggle clothes were approaching Dumbledore's office. To his incredulous amazement, the man bore a striking resemblance to Lucius Malfoy.

"Alex? Katherine? Well, I'll be...!" Myrtle ran up to them and tried to hug the woman. "Sorry, I still forget sometimes. So, the Terror of Gryffindor snagged herself a Malfoy brother?"

Cedric gaped. Lucius Malfoy had a brother? Who had married a Liverpudlian?

"You could say that," he replied. "Haven't used the surname for a while, though. No, to the wider world I am merely Alex Malone, office manager and father of two. Look, much as I'd love to hang about, I've got to go and have a word with Dumbledore. See you later, Tilly!"

Myrtle left them to it, and saw Cedric standing there with his mouth open. "You just saw a possibly unique phenomenon in the history of magic," she remarked. "That was Alexis Malfoy, older brother of Lucius and the only Malfoy to give You-Know-Who the finger. Kitty was a one-off, didn't even believe in magic until her letter arrived. Unlikeliest match in the world, but it worked somehow, and Malfoy family sensibilities be damned. I heard their kids were getting home-schooled in magic and going to an ordinary comprehensive, but it looks like old Fudge-Nudger's decided that's not on." Cedric had to stuff both hands into his mouth to hold in the laughter; that topped learning that Lily Evans nicknamed Professor McGonagall 'Pussy Galore'! "Wish I could say that was mine, but apparently it was Luna's dad who dreamed that one up. His editorials have been getting quite snitty about the current Minister; he's pledged his services to the Weasley campaign trail."

"Good for him. So you don't mind being called Tilly, then?"

"Not at all," she replied. "Myrtle's just so stuffy, you know?"

Cedric laughed. "I can identify with that. Call me Derek if you like."

"It's a deal."

"Careful," Luna warned. "His bit of French fluff used to call him that."

"I think it suits him. And so what if he _does_ have a bit of a reputation? I like the edge of danger it gives him!"

"You'll be less enthusiastic when he starts putting it about with... hmm."

Myrtle giggled. "See? He _has_ to be faithful!"

"Very romantic, I'm sure. Trust me, Tilly; dating desperate men is no fun at all."

Myrtle gave her friend a look. "You're telling spotty, speccy old me?"

Two days after the start of term, Luna's usual state of dreamlike serenity was replaced by what Cedric and Myrtle could only describe as... _girlishness._ She was giggling non-stop, and the name 'Rick' was mentioned a couple of times during her frequent chats with Myrtle, which Cedric spent hiding in another cubicle. It turned out that Luna had fallen deeply, passionately in love with none other than Richard Malone, first cousin to Draco Malfoy.

Cedric had covertly observed the Malone siblings, who were a mere nine months and two weeks apart in age (his imagination actually shut down at that concept) but as close as twins. They looked nearly alike, with brown hair and startling blue eyes. Francis was the extrovert, with a sense of humour to rival the Weasley twins and enough of an edge to her tongue to make Malfoy back off. She was also a cheerfully 'out' and enthusiastically practicing lesbian.

Richard was the seemingly quiet one, who rarely spoke out in class and tended to be off to one side of the Golden Trio with his head in a book; Terry Pratchett featured more than _Hogwarts: A History_, but he was very much Remus to their James, Sirius and Lily dynamic. Which boy more closely resembled which Marauder was of course debateable.

And yet Rick had another side to him. Cedric witnessed it when Crabbe and Goyle attempted to corner him in one corridor. "Hey, Mudblood!" called one of them; Cedric never could remember which one was which.

"Fuck off, you inbred streak of piss," Rick replied, carrying on. Cedric had time to notice the kickboxing club's emblem on the young man's gym bag before the two heavies launched a badly coordinated attack. Malone saw them coming, dropped his bag and asumed a guard stance, then expertly blocked a wild swing before launching a lightning-fast left/right combination that sent his assailant reeling away with a bloody nose. The other Malfoy henchman was lifted of his feet by a reverse kick and thrown half a dozen yards. Both Slytherins stood, proving that for all their faults they weren't quitters, but an enraged Professor Snape intervened. "Enough, both of you. Ten points from Slytherin for starting a brawl in the corridors, and another five for being stupid enough to pick a fight with a martial arts enthusiast. Are you hurt, Malone?"

"No, I'm fine thanks, sir. I'd better get to my lesson." He walked off.

Cedric left Snape administering a dressing-down and strolled off, grinning broadly. It was always the quiet ones, wasn't it? This seemingly rather bookish lad, who gave an impression of not quite fitting in and seemed desperate to fade into the background despite being a Beater for the house team and owning a customised broom that was the envy of every discerning Quidditch player, had just put Draco's muscle in the hospital wing without breaking a sweat.

"Oh, I wish I'd been there!" Myrtle giggled. "Bet Luna would have liked it as well; she's crackers about him!" She was leaning against a cubicle partition whilst Cedric perched on the cistern, a position they'd spent a lot of time in. Cedric had yet to master the art of leaning against a wall in his incorporeal form, and tended to land on his arse.

"I wish I'd had a shot at meeting somebody nice like that," Myrtle complained.

"Yeah. It was a real waste. You're witty, you're intelligent, you're prettier than you give yourself credit for..." He stopped, feeling awkward.

Before this intriguing development could progress much further, they heard the door open. Somebody sat heavily on another toilet seat and swore long and hard.

"Something up, 'Mione?" Myrtle asked sympathetically, sticking her head through the partition.

"You could put it like that. I don't know what's thrown me more, the fact that a _girl_ has asked me to the Yule Ball or the fact that I actually want to go with her!" Hermione sighed. "I don't even know if I'm a proper lesbian or not."

"Which girl is it, anyway?"

"Francis Malone. You know, the totally 'out' bane of Draco Malfoy's existence. I mean, I like her and everything, but if she makes a pass at me or something I don't know what I'll do; run away screaming or ravish her!"

"Well, my advice would be to go with the flow. If it goes a bit too far too fast, tell her and she'll back off. If she really likes you, she'll be sensible about it." The two girls talked for nearly a quarter of an hour, and Hermione left feeling much better. She had evidently decided that if nothing else, anything Fran did to her would settle the whole sexuality question once and for all.

"Poor mixed-up girl," Myrtle said sympathetically. "So, I'm witty, intelligent and prettier than I give myself credit for, am I?" She gave him a coquettish flutter of eyelids.

"You're all that and more," Cedric replied. "And I just wish I'd had the chance to know you before..."

"Before we clocked out? Oh, don't be daft! We've got all eternity to get to know each other now!" she replied. She planted herself on his lap, and wrapped her arms around an astonished Cedric Diggory's neck. "And we can't give each other anything itchy, either..."

Cedric wasn't always that quick on the uptake, but he knew a hint when he was bludgeoned with one and leaned forward into a passionate kiss. It felt warm, and natural, and...

The door opened behind them. _"Ni ta ma de tian xia suo yo de ren dou gai si!"_ Cho exclaimed. "Myrtle, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

Myrtle fell off Cedric's lap. Cho stared at him, her expression rather akin to somebody who had recieved a Stunner amidships.

"Um," Cedric ventured.

Departed spirit or not, the scream _hurt._ Cedric resisted the urge to cover his ears; that would have been tactless. Luna, Ginny Weasley and Francis Malone all came running, and Cedric realised with a horrible sinking feeling that this was going to take one hell of a lot of explaining...

"Cedric! Get back here, you _liu kou shui de biao zi he hou zi de ben er zi!"_ Cho screamed. "Come out and face me!"

"I wouldn't mind her yelling so much if I could understand any of the names she's calling you," Myrtle complained. Cedric shifted to a more comfortable position in the rafters of the Great Hall but said nothing. "How did Luna find out you were seeing Fleur behind Cho's back anyhow?"

"I don't know and I don't ever want to know. I would however take great pleasure in wringing her neck for blurting it out just as we'd got her to calm down a bit! I didn't think Asperger's Syndrome removed all tact from the human body!"

"Oh, that wasn't the Asperger's; that was Luna's sense of comic timing." Myrtle grinned. "Always did have rather a mischievous streak, did our Luna."

"Right. Now I'm definitely going to bloody well strangle her!"

"Cho?" Hary said thoughtfully. "There's a bit of a limit to what you can do to him at this stage. Why not just call it instant karma and let it go, hmm? Come on, it's not like you can hex him or anything, is it? Just put your wand away and-" There was the sound of a slap and several more virulent Chinese obscenities. "Ow! That was uncalled for. I'm as happy about this as you are, alright? Believe it or not, I still care about you. A lot. And I think Cedric has behaved like a complete arse."

"Sod off, Potter!" Cedric suggested. "You're just trying to muscle in on her!" Myrtle elbowed him rather hard.

Cho lobbed a hex at him, but it passed through her ex-boyfriend's departed shade as if he wasn't there. _"Gou si!"_ she muttered, then had a better idea. She grabbed Harry and enthusiastically French kissed him, giving Cedric the finger with her free hand. "I'm over you, you two-timing dead bastard!" she yelled up to him once they'd finally stopped.

"Good on you, China Girl," Cedric replied simply. "Harry, you make sure you look after her, alright? And _none_ of you saw me. Understand?" Hand in hand, he and Myrtle floated off through the roof.

"You let him call you that?" Harry said in amazement.

"He made up for it in other ways."

Cedric and Myrtle stood on the roof, trying to kiss and laugh all at once. "So, how do you feel about being a ghost now?" she asked him.

He gathered her into his arms. "I wouldn't change a thing, Tilly. Not a single damned thing." With that, Cedric threw all the love and affection and desire in his soul into the kiss.

It was possibly the only happy ending in history which had both protagonists dead.

Except it wasn't. One morning Cedric woke up in his dormitory. Alive.

"What in the name of Merlin's crusty underpants? No, this can't be right. The Dark Lord killed me two years ago."

"The Dark Lord's been dead since you were two. Aurors got to Godric's Hollow first and handed him his arse. Now go back to sleep!" suggested Harry. Then there was a long silence. "Oh, God. We never thought of that, did we?"

"Thought of what? Harry, what the holy howling bejesus have you _done?"_

"We went back in time. We were waiting for him. Snape, Flitwick, a bunch of other students. We killed him."

"And I'm still alive. And...?" Cedric's voice cracked.

"We couldn't go back that far. Nobody knows why, but we could only go back as far as the start of the most recent prophecy. We can't go in short hops either. Snape and Flitwick already tried. There's nothing we can do for her, Cedric. I'm sorry."

With an inarticulate yell of rage, Cedric leapt out of bed and grabbed his clothes, then ran out of the room.

He didn't dare go near his and Tilly's old haunts. _Ha, good joke. I can't let her see me like this_. He ran through corridor after coridor until he found himself outside, on the Quidditch pitch. Rick was already there, giving his broom a once-over. "Morning, Ced... Oh, God. You remember, don't you?"

"Yes. Listen, I know what you did and why you did it, and I understand. You can't please everybody." A bitter smile. "I just need time to think, to clear my head."

Rick thought long and hard. "Want to take her up? I always go a few laps when I've got worries. Helps keep it all in perspective when you're clinging to a broom at a hundred and fifty feet and doing eighty. Here." He helped Cedric into the safety harness, then checked every inch of it. "Cedric, I ask one thing of you. Don't do anything up there that you'll regret later."

"Rick, the only thing I regret is still being alive." He sent the broom into a hover.

"Cedric, come on. Think sensibly, for- Cedric! Get your arse back on the ground right the hell _now!_ You are _not_ topping yourself on _my_ broom!" Harry and some of the others were on the pitch by now, carrying brooms of their own. "Stop him, for Christ's sake!" Rick yelled. Harry straddled his Firebolt and made to pursue, but the customised Silver Comet was faster than any stock broom in existence and Cedric had too much of a lead. They watched in horrified fascination as the tiny figure began to fall from the broom.

"Oh, God," Ron said quietly.

Myrtle came rushing out to them. "I saw him in the corridor heading this way and... _No!_ Oh, Cedric, you fucking _lunatic!"_

"Would somebody mind telling me just what the hell is going on?" demanded Professor McGonagall.

"Cedric Diggory just hurled himself off a broom at an altitude of about two hundred feet," Harry replied baldly.

Rick punched the nearest convenient flat surface, the side of a spectator gallery. "I should never have let him near the bastard thing! Why the _fuck_ didn't I see what he was planning? I even suggested that a broom ride might help him clear his head, for Christ's sake!"

"It wasn't your fault, Rick. If I hadn't managed to grab the broom I'd have thought of something else," a monochrome and transparent Cedric explained. "The broom should be alright, I think. Sorry if I seem a little ungrateful, guys, but once you've been here you never really want to go back."

Professor McGonagall was, for probably the first time in her life, speechless.

Myrtle found her voice first. "Why?" she said in a near-whisper.

"Because life without you isn't worth living, Tilly. I love you." He wrapped his arms around her. "You're worth dying for." She burst into tears.

"Minerva? I heard a commotion and... oh, bloody hell." Dumbledore took in the scene before him and wondered if he were not perhaps going mad. Snape blinked a couple of times, then shared a long look with Flitwick.

"I need a drink," Professor Lupin concluded. "Several drinks, in fact. Anybody coming with me?"

"Most certainly," Dumbledore replied. "It might help me think of a way to explain this to his parents."

Myrtle cocked her head on one side. "Seems to me that most people introduce their girlfriends to their parents _before_ they commit suicide."

"You haven't met mine yet; trust me, they're easier to deal with from this position!"

The various living people present exchanged looks, and decided that they could either see the funny side or fetch up in Broadmoor.

"So," Cedric said later, "does anybody feel up to explaining how the most enthusiastic wannabe Death Eater in his year ends up in a Weasley sweater?"

They exchanged looks. "You always were a fine actor, Draco," Ginny remarked.

"Okay, here goes. It's a bit of a long story, and involves my father getting beaten up by Vernon Dursley..."

"Sounds good to me!"

They explained about Draco's undignified retreat from Privet Drive, and the trip to Romania. The bit about Snape and Flitwick caught Cedric a bit off-guard, and the whole business at Godric's Hollow had him utterly amazed. "That was all it took?"

Rick nodded. "Guns. Los of guns," he agreed in his finest Keanu Reeves voice. "Poor bastards didn't know what had hit them."

"And we Apparate home from the trip to find everything changed," Harry added. "I haven't got a scar, Neville's parents are of perfectly sound mind, Arthur Weasley's Minister of Magic..."

"And I wasn't dead," Cedric replied. "Which was easily fixed, I might add."

"Only in the wizarding world is this level of surreality possible to achieve without the aid of extremely hard drugs," Fran remarked, earning a giggle from Hermione.

At roughly this juncture, Cedric's parents Flooed directly into the Gryffindor common room. As one, all members of the Order of the Basillisk melted away to the relative safety of the Ravenclaw common room, where Luna and Draco (he'd secured a transfer; a participant in the defeat of Voldemort wouldn't make a terribly welcome addition to Slytherin, would he?) got them in as guests.

Mrs Diggory was surprisingly calm. "Cedric, would you incredibly mind explaining why you felt the need to become a ghost?" she said with just the slightest tremor in her voice.

"Not at all. Mum, Dad, meet Myrtle Bamfylde. Tilly, meet my parents."

Mr Diggory found his voice first. "You fell for a _ghost?_"

"Literally." Cedric flashed them a grin.

Myrtle shrugged helplessly. "Wasn't my idea, I can tell you. Derek, this is more your story to tell than mine."

"Fair enough. Now, certain aspects of this aren't for public consumpion, largely because we're in a radically altered timeline. In the original one, I was murdered..."

"...so here we are. Don't ask me how I remember any of it, but I do. And I'm buggered if I'm going to go through life without the one and only girl I've never once been tempted to cheat on!" Cedric finished.

Mr Diggory heaved a long and weary sigh. "Except for driving him to swan-dive off a broomstick, which was clearly not your fault, I'd say you've been a much-needed good influence on the boy!" he told Myrtle. "Well, lad, I suppose this is something of a fait accompli. You will write to us, won't you?"

"I'll think of a way," Cedric promised. "Please don't feel I love you any less for this. Just remember; I will always be your son."

"That you will," his mother replied, once she'd blown her nose rather noisily. "Happy haunting, Cedric!"

Once they flooed away, Cedric felt Myrtle's arms snaking around his waist. "So, looks like we've got all eternity together again," she purred. "Got any plans?"

"Nothing pressing, except you..."

Luna, who had crept back into the common room, switched on the ensorcelled cassette player she'd borrowed from Mrs Lupin's Muggle Studies classroom and sent Carl Carlton's _Everlasting Love_ thundering through the tower as Cedric swung Myrtle into a passionate kiss, then raised her camera and took a photograph. "That turns up on the front of the _Quibbler_ and you'd just better give my mum a cut!" Cedric warned, but laughed.

There's probably an awful pun to be had about the resillience and indefatigability of the human _spirit_, but I don't think I'll bother.


End file.
